


Show & Tell

by apfelgranate



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Consensual Sex, Fisting, Genderqueer Character, Hermaphrodites, Non-Human Genitalia, Other, PWP, Vaginal Fingering, Xenogenitalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apfelgranate/pseuds/apfelgranate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elves are the children of Illuvatar. Orcs are not. Consequently, there are certain… anatomical differences, but that doesn't stop Azog and Tauriel.</p>
<p>This is two people from different species figuring out how to have sex with each other. Nothing more, nothing less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show & Tell

**Author's Note:**

> This fic assumes that orcs are another species created by one of the Maiar without permission, like the dwarves were, and thus there is nothing wrong with them that isn't also wrong with humans and dwarves. (Credit for this headcanon goes to [hobbitdragon](http://hobbitdragon.tumblr.com/).) Also, that orcs are a hermaphroditic species. You never see any orc women because there _aren't_ any, and neither are there orc men.

Tauriel knew that orc blood was black.

What she had not considered was that consequently, Azog's skin would turn grey when they blushed. The orc's darkened skin shimmered in the golden red light of the torches. Shadows and the glow of the light played over muscles and scars. It was a strange, _lovely_ sight.

Azog sat on their sleeping furs and watched with awed, hungry interest as Tauriel shed the last of her clothes. She threw them into a pile beside the furs, belt and loincloth and tunic. It was warm inside the cave, but she shivered slightly anyway.

"You look—very strange," said Azog, voice gone rough. "How are your people so _spindly_ , and yet…"

"As do you." Tauriel smiled and stepped on the furs, between Azog's legs. "You look so strange to me," she said and bent down to rest her forehead against theirs. The orc was very tall – taller than she, who loomed even above the Greenwood's king – and she did not have to bend very far.

"…And I like that. Don't you?"

Azog blushed deeper, their usually pale skin dark grey. It was not shyness. Broad hands settled on Tauriel's hips and tugged, and thick thighs spread eagerly for her to kneel between. Azog rumbled out her name and Tauriel shivered again. Their noses slid against each other, breaths crashing softly. Then, Tauriel cupped Azog's jaw, large like the rest of them, and tilted their head to press their mouths together.

Elves and orcs considered quite different things to be 'kissing' but during the past half hour, they had figured out how to work around that. It was choppy, and they bumped noses, and Tauriel's blood _sang_ with it. They slipped, slithered from one caress into the next. Nose to nose, cheek, nudge of lips. Softer, then harder, a breath, a breath that turned into a gasp, a moan, hands, restless, slithering across skin. Skin and scars, all four hands. Azog's thin lips under hers, their scarred cheek, line of the jaw, ear, neck.

Tauriel could feel Azog's scars against her chest, the way they were curled together. Under her arms. Against her neck, too. She traced one on their chest with a finger, and their breathing quickened. She repeated the motion, with more pressure, and their breathing caught. She dipped her head and licked along another scar that ran from Azog's back over his shoulder and up the side of their neck, and a shudder went through the orc.

"Do you enjoy that?" asked Tauriel quietly.

" _Yes_ ," came the gravel-rough reply.

Azog's hands slid down Tauriel's sides, up, and down again. Their fingertips were rough, calloused, and the thought of what they would feel like at her centre – the way Azog breathed her name, the sound they made when she stroked their scars, how large and warm and strong and yielding the orc's body was – fanned her arousal like a storm would a forest fire.

Finally, Azog placed one hand between her legs. And hesitated.

They looked up, met her gaze. This time, Tauriel suspected that the blush was not all eagerness.

"You are a _very_ strange people," they said slowly, but there was _hunger_ in it, in the sound of the words and the warm weight of their hand and the darkness of their eyes. Tauriel knew, because she felt that same hunger. Felt light-headed and reckless with it.

"Shall I tell you what to do? How I like to be touched?"

"Yes," Azog rasped, "yes, tell me."

Tauriel did. How to cup a hand over her mound, how to rub and scratch – lightly, take care with those claws – with the entirety of the hand, palm and inner sides of the fingers both. How to slide a finger between her folds and find her clit; how to slide it further while the thumb remained to circle her clit. They were kissing again; the way orcs did, noses sliding against one another, breaths colliding, the occasional brush of lips coincidental.

"A little deeper," Tauriel breathed. "And faster—oh…" Azog's fingers were of a thickness that suited her perfectly, and the calloused skin of them felt even better than she had imagined. Shudders shook her body, and she dug deep into the muscle of Azog's shoulders to hold on as her peak came, frenzied and gasping and so very sweet. But she did not tell Azog to stop, and they did not, but watched wide- and dark-eyed as they brought her to a second one.

It left her boneless, and she slumped against Azog's bulk with a breathless giggle.

"One might think—" she managed, "one might think that you had done this before."

"I haven't," Azog murmured, smiling, teeth-edged. They were slow to withdraw their hand, and considered the slick fingers for a moment before tasting the wetness. The sight had Tauriel's insides clenching in the most heated way, suddenly desperately eager to have those fingers between her legs again, yet… there was something else she wanted more than that.

She kissed Azog, the elvish way, and asked, "Will you lie back for me? I want to see all of you." She had not so far, not really. Shadows had kept much of the orc's body hidden from her.

Now, Azog did as asked, leaned back onto their elbows and stretched their pale body out for Tauriel to see. It still surprised Tauriel how much she liked the orc's sheer size, their height and bulk. Her previous partners had all been shorter than her, sometimes significantly, and only sometimes possessing of more muscle mass than her. Azog was very different, and the sight of them stirred her just as fiercely as any of her past lovers.

Scars covered most of their body, both straight and curved and jagged, seemingly all of them decorative. The skin, usually pale, a white like old bones, was now grey on their chest and neck, and darker still on their face, though the torchlight cast everything into warm tones. Tauriel's gaze fell to the point where Azog's legs joined their body. There lay no prick like it would for an elvish or human man, nor a knob like a dwarf's, but slightly further down… tendrils. Small and dark, glossy pink. Several thinner ones loosely curled about one that seemed to be thicker. They were arrayed in a circle and emerged from Azog's body under the apex of two folds of skin that formed a triangle, and below the tendrils was a small entrance. It opened every time Azog's muscles tensed, and it glistened with wetness. The tendrils twitched under Tauriel's gaze, and she glanced up to see the expression on Azog's face. The orc was grinning, skewed and small, and their cheeks darkened even further as she watched them.

Tauriel leaned forward and braced herself on Azog's thighs. "Now it's your turn," she said. "Tell me how you want to be touched."

Azog's hips rose as if of their own accord and Tauriel's hands slipped down their thighs until they came to rest in the cuts of their hips.

"Your thumbs," said Azog as they reached for Tauriel's wrists to tug her closer. The orc showed her how to tease her thumbs under the folds of skin and up until the pads of her fingers prodded against the tendrils from below. She stroked the tendrils like that and a lovely, shuddering breath escaped Azog, their chest trembling.

"Again," they whispered, even as Tauriel complied, "again, again."

Azog's body jerked slightly with every stroke, the tendrils twitching and even writhing with her ministrations, and soon – after Azog had considered Tauriel's fingers with intent for a long moment – they guided her to slip her forefinger into the channel below the tendrils. It was blood-hot inside, and wet, and tight, and the feeling was surprisingly familiar.

"Your spindly fingers," said Azog in between breaths, "do—have their advantages…" Tauriel grinned up at them, gently twisted said finger inside them and dragged her thumb along the tendrils again. Azog's mouth fell open on a soft, jagged sound, and the muscles around Tauriel's finger clenched and rippled. Sparks began once more to dance underneath Tauriel's skin.

"They do come in handy," she murmured as she continued her movements. "You'd be surprised what I can do to someone with nothing but two fingers and a slip of oil."

"I—ah—I'll keep that in mind…"

"Do you want me to push deeper?"

"…No, that's—good. Come here, come," said Azog eagerly, tugging at her shoulders. Tauriel laughed even as she lost her balance and nearly tumbled forwards.

"Wait," she said, "wait, let me…" She withdrew her fingers and clambered over Azog's legs, uncaring of grace, to settle herself against their side, then pushed her hand back between their legs so the tendrils lay in the upside down cradle between her fore and middle finger, and slid her finger back inside the heat of Azog's body.

Azog curled one large arm around her back and held her close, so she did not have to stretch much for them to kiss again. As she kept twisting her finger and hand, Azog began to tremble against her, and their noises grew in frequency, in volume, in sharpness, until their back arched and they clenched so tightly around her finger that it nigh hurt. There was an exhale, great and long and deep, and Azog sagged back down to the furs, their arm that had been wrapped around Tauriel relaxing with it.

Tauriel withdrew her hand, though she left her palm to lie low upon Azog's belly. Then she followed them down, kissed them, and Azog's arm rose again, and curled about her shoulders this time.

"One might think you've done this before," they said after a while.

"I haven't," said Tauriel with a chuckle. She trailed her hand up Azog's belly and chest, tracing the path with a fingertip along the scars. Azog shifted onto their side once she reached their collarbone, and further and further, until Tauriel lay on her back underneath them, though the orc was careful to keep their full weight off of her.

"Show me what you can do with two fingers and a slip of oil," rumbled Azog, as they dragged their mouth up the side of Tauriel's neck. She shivered with it, and returned the caress before she realized that two fingers would never fit inside Azog's channel; it was simply too small. She said so, and Azog laughed. It echoed inside the cave.

"I've got another hole," they said, still grinning, full of teeth. "Have you never touched another there?"

Tauriel's cheeks burned, and there was not a single shred of embarrassment in it.

"Elves," she said, "and human men. No dwarf yet."

Azog's blush had not faded. Their skin still shimmered, red and gold on dark grey. "And no orc yet, either," they said, lips touching Tauriel's. "Do you wish to?"

"Yes," Tauriel said instantly. "Yes."

Azog procured a small clay vial that contained probably more than a mere slip of oil. It took the both of them a few moments of deliberation to decide on the most suitable position, which they eventually found to be with Azog on their knees and Tauriel kneeling behind them. She could not reach the orc's mouth like this, but she could reach the scars on their back and shoulders with her mouth, easily.

Tauriel curled one hand over Azog's hip and two fingers of her other hand inside of them. Azog liked it when she curled them just inside the rim, her knuckles digging into the muscle from the inside, and let her know in words and sounds and with the warm grip of their hand around the wrist of Tauriel's, tight on their hip.

They liked three fingers more. Four even more than that. Oil dripped onto the furs.

Tauriel's breath came once more in soft pants and almost-gasps, and when Azog growled, "More," a fierce tremble lanced through her body, dragging heat behind it.

"Are you sure," she murmured.

"Yes." Azog's broad back seemed like a glacier as they bent forward to brace themself on their elbows, muscle ridged with scars like a mountainside. There was still oil in the vial and Tauriel slicked her entire hand and eased four fingers back inside. Then came her thumb, tucked between them, then a slow, slow push. A slow sound came from Azog. Deep, rumbling, _pleased_.

She curved her fingers into a fist and tugged the slightest bit, then pushed in again. Azog groaned. Again, again, and Azog clenched up and shuddered, like an earthquake was shaking the slopes of their back. Tauriel's heart was beating in her chest like a newly caged bird, fast and frantic. She kissed her way up Azog's spine afterwards. Took her time with it. Was dripping wet again by the time she reached the nape of Azog's neck.

The orc was grinning. The skin under their jaw was wet with sweat.

"You're burning again, aren't you," said Azog. Tauriel hummed in affirmation, bent down to kiss them.

"You want me to show you what I can do?"

"With what, your tongue?"

"If you want to."

Tauriel thought of Azog's sharp teeth. She thought of their lips. Of the way they had kissed her before.

"Show me," she whispered.


End file.
